


Mythology

by quiveringbunny



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - Escorts, F/M, fake date, olicity - Freeform, romantic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-28
Updated: 2016-04-28
Packaged: 2018-06-05 01:30:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6683926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quiveringbunny/pseuds/quiveringbunny
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Businesswoman Felicity Smoak faces another charity gala, but this time she has hired a professional escort to accompany her. She gets more than she expected when the man turns out to be Oliver Queen. </p><p> </p><p>I don't own the characters, but I do like to play with them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mythology

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoy this romantic piece that I wrote as a special thank you to Tumblr followers. It's a little longer than I thought it would be, but I hope you enjoy it. 
> 
> There is a piece of art referenced in the story. I have embedded it so you can see it too. Here is a backup link. 
> 
> https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jupiter_and_Io#/media/File:Antonio_Allegri,_called_Correggio_-_Jupiter_and_Io_-_Google_Art_Project.jpg

Another Saturday night. Another gala. Not quite.

Felicity Smoak finished her makeup in the backseat of a town car bound for the Starling City Museum of Art and a charity event to benefit…what? Damn. She couldn’t remember. No doubt it was a meaningful cause. Felicity was the President and CEO of a successful tech business, and as such, she tried to attend several events every season to benefit worthy causes.

As she shifted in her seat, the gold floral overlay of her Marchesa Notte gown rode up to reveal metallic sandals peeking out. She loved the dress, the way the sheer fabric and the gold and rose pink threads complimented her skin of her chest and arms, the deep cut neckline that accentuated her collarbone. It was sexy and elegant at the same time, which on some level even unknown to her, was how she wanted to be seen.

Lips properly crimsoned, Felicity returned her makeup to a black clutch while she compiled computer code in her head to calm her nerves. She wasn’t really worried about the fundraiser. Nor was she anxious about the prospect of socializing with Starling society. Felicity Smoak, she was freaking out about her “date” for the evening.

After attending dozens of these do’s, after being served up to the dullest single men in town and stifling a hundred yawns in their presence, Felicity had finally taken matters into her own hands. For this evening’s festivities, she had hired a professional escort.

When her dear friend Caitlin suggested the idea, Felicity balked. Several times. She had seen American Gigolo once, she explained. It was creepy. When Caitlin stopped laughing, she explained that she was not suggesting that Felicity keep company with a male prostitute. No, just a professional man who was a practiced companion, versed in small talk and smiling and perhaps a little dancing -- her own personal buffer to keep the matchmakers away so that she could make an appearance without feeling vulnerable. Caitlin knew several women in town who used this particular social solution and she insisted she would too, if she wasn't married to her husband, Ronnie.

It had been sixteen months since Felicity ended things with Ray Palmer. It hadn’t been an ugly break up. Maybe a little sad because it had been over for quite some time before she chose to speak up about it. There was no spark between them. Just trips to symposiums, shared articles on nano robotic technology and a few joyless sexual encounters. They were simply better friends than romantic partners.

Since the relationship ended, Felicity had kept her head down and focused on improving her company. Her company, Beacon Enterprises, benefited from her focus and saw 17% growth in the past year. That success only encouraged Felicity to stay the course and put her personal life on hold. Who needed a personal life?

The blonde currently sporting a soft up-do had no idea why she was so nervous. She was simply meeting an employee. A contractor. An expert conversationalist. A master of the social graces she had little time to cultivate. A man she was paying to keep her company for a few hours in a purely platonic capacity. That was all.

God. What was she thinking? The question rung between her ears as she entered the diner across the street from the museum. This was the spot where they were to meet. Neutral, impersonal territory, as recommended by the contact Caitlin provided. She scanned the booths, hoping to spot the man quickly so she wouldn't have to stand there long. Wearing a designer dress in a greasy spoon made her feel like a circus clown at a funeral, and not the good kind of funeral where people tell funny stories about the dearly departed because that's the kind of person they were. _Get a grip on yourself, Smoak, you're losing it._

Just then, a formidable figure in a black tuxedo entered the dining area from a hallway, likely returning from the men's room. Felicity locked eyes on him and was immediately sorry because he did the same.

Blue. His eyes were deep blue and, frankly, just one highlight of a perfectly masculine face. A strong nose, pleasing bone structure, and a jawline softened by an even dusting of stubble made her breath hitch in her throat. His hair was on the short side, but looked soft. Touchable. The man's athletic frame couldn't be tamed by formal wear, even though the tuxedo fit perfectly. Suspenders she glimpsed beneath his jacket were a final nail in her coffin. It was hard to resist a man dressed like that, particularly when he was looking back at her with curiosity and admiration, desire even. That last thing was nice. If he could fake that a little for a couple of hours, this social experiment might not be a disaster.

Felicity ended her internal fist-pump at having scored the best-looking escort in town and hurriedly waved at the man to draw closer. His eyebrow shot up and he approached her with a tiny look of bemusement on his pillowy, perfect lips.  Damn.

Felicity stuck her hand out for a professional greeting. "Hello. I’m Felicity…Smoak. Thanks for being punctual. I just...when the _agency,”_ she emphasized the word because it still seemed weird to her, “said they would send their best man, I was still expecting someone..."

The man's face morphed into something quizzical, even as he clasped his warm hand in hers. His touch felt good. Really good.

"Someone?" Hell, even his voice was gorgeous -- soft and low, like the sound heavy rain makes on a lake. _Holy crap, get a hold of yourself_ , she berated her hormones internally.

"Uh, someone less..." She waved the free hand holding her purse toward his body and got distracted noticing a dimple on his cheek. "Wow."

The man blinked and tightened his mouth into a suppressed smile. "Thank you. Always good to exceed expectations." Meanwhile, his eyes took inventory of her features – her bright eyes, the soft sweep of her cheek and her pink lips. Wow.

Felicity rolled her eyes, indicating she knew what a dork she must sound like. Thank God this wasn't a real date. If it was, she might not be able to find her voice now.

"What should I call you? The email said…gentlemen prefer to use pseudonyms, for you know, reasons. I could have used one too, but everyone we'll meet at the gala will say my name anyway. And I’m not worried about you getting, you know, stalker-y because I’m in tech and I’m very good at it and I could ruin your life, so that’s not happening. Oh, and before I forget, the wire transfer is automatically set for 9pm. Sorry. I've never done this before and I'm a little nervous, so I'm sounding like a babbling..."

She stopped short, not simply because the man was staring into her with sympathy by way of those slate blue eyes, but because he looked a little concerned, still had hold of her hand, and was lightly massaging her knuckles with his fingers. It felt so, so good.

"My name is Oliver, okay?" That voice, low and breathy. God.

Words stolen, she responded with a grateful nod.

"And right now I am just looking forward to spending some time with you. Why don't we go and have a fantastic evening. Unless you would rather stay here and have some pie and coffee together, which would be nice too."

"Thank you, Oliver. You know, pie is very tempting. You’re tempting…me with pie, but we’re dressed.”

The man cocked his head at her, processing the intimation.

“You prefer to eat pie,” he paused and cleared his throat, “without clothes?”

The blonde’s blue eyes sparkled no less when her brow furrowed.

“Yes, but…OH! No, I meant, we’re wearing these clothes. Dammit. My brain thinks of the worst way to say things sometimes. I meant we are in dressed up in fancy clothes. We should just…” 

Felicity gave an embarrassed smile and turned to towards the exit door, wondering how she was going to get through the evening when her mouth threatened disaster at every turn.

She was going to have to get lucky. Not get lucky like that, just lucky in terms of avoiding awkward situations. But she wasn’t usually a lucky person. Except, Oliver. Felicity had hired a man for the evening, sight unseen and he could have looked like creepy Lex Luthor, but had a “really good personality”. Instead, for the same investment, she ended up with hot and kind of sweet James Bond type. So lucky. Except…damn, _probably gay_. That’s it.

Just as she was about to grab for the door, Oliver stepped in front of her and opened it. As she walked through, he leaned toward her and chuckled. “Not even a little, Felicity. But thank you.”

//--> //--> //--> //-->

By the time they crossed the street and stood on the sidewalk in front of the grand marble steps in front of the Starling City Museum of Art, Felicity had somewhat recovered from her last verbal gaffe. But it now occurred to her that they had not discussed any rules for the evening. That needed to be addressed before they were seen in public together.

“Just a second, Oliver,” she whispered, drawing him closer.

It was early evening now. The sun was setting, but there was still Indian summer warmth hanging in the air. Felicity noted that the change from diner fluorescent to natural light only made him look more handsome. She wasn’t aware that the pink and coral sky decorated the tone of her dress as well, that the gold threads on it glittered, that her ivory skin was luminous, and that her own blue eyes currently included flecks of violet.  She also didn’t notice that Oliver was staring at all of it.

“Maybe we should have some guidelines. You know, rules for tonight?” Her tone was a little tense.

“Sure. What did you have in mind?”

“Well, try not to make it look like you’re trying to have a good time. Does that make sense?”

“Yes and no. I don’t think you have to worry about me looking like I’m having a good time, Felicity. I’m sure it will be nice.” _You’re nice_ , may have been spoken with his eyes.

“Okay. Good. Umm. There will be a lot of women in there. If you could avoid, you know, checking them out in an obvious way, I would appreciate that. I had this boyfriend once with a roving eye, who…” she made air quotes, “‘appreciated the female form’ a little too much. It was kind of humiliating. I promise I’ll write you a four star recommendation when this is over to help you drum up business, if you can avoid, you know, marketing, while you’re here.”

Oliver made a strange face and shook his head. “That won’t be a problem. I promise you, Felicity. And I don’t think there’s a Yelp listing for this kind of thing...”

“Okay. Uh, there will be music. There’s always music, so maybe one dance and if it’s not completely awful and I haven’t crushed your feet, we could have a second. I don’t usually dance at these things because, let’s face it, shoes like these are made for sitting…and masochists.” At this, Felicity tugged her skirt up to demonstrate the height of her heels, but mostly showcased a shapely ankle, if Oliver was any judge.

“But dancing will make the date look more convincing,” she continued, slightly losing her footing. Oliver moved forward and grabbed Felicity’s arm to stabilize her. She looked up at him, slightly out of breath.

“Um…let’s see. I will need to introduce you to people. Just try not to let them bore you to death. I actually nodded off when the Mayor was speaking to me last month. You do this all the time, so I am sure you know to respond to questions and everything. People will ask where we know each other from. Let’s just say college.” Felicity avoided eye contact at this point.

“What college did you go to?” Oliver inquired with some interest.

“”MIT. My company does commercial cyber security.”

“You have your own company?”

“Yes. It’s not very big yet. Only 85 employees, but we’re scrappy.”

“That’s…wow.” Oliver scrubbed his face with his hand. “Felicity, do I seem like the kind of guy who went to MIT?”

Felicity allowed herself to check him out in a noticeable way. Then she shook her head.

“I guess not. If you did, they’d plaster your picture all over the recruiting pamphlets,” she chuckled. It was a good sign, making a joke. Oliver sighed and smirked in tandem.

“How about we say we met in Boston? I was at Harvard while you were at MIT?

Felicity quirked an eyebrow. “Harvard?”

Oliver looked bemused and indignant at the same time. “What? You don’t think I could have gone to Harvard?”

“Sure. Okay. What would your major have been? In case it comes up?”

“Art History.”

“Really? You’re going with that? In a museum.”

“I can hold my own. I watch the History Channel.”

“Alright. I suspect everyone will be too distracted by your package…” Felicity felt herself veering into dangerous verbal territory all of a sudden. She watched the look on Oliver’s face as she careened down the abyss. “The package….the total package…that is you.” She waved toward him. They’ll be too stunned to see me with a man who’s…you.” She managed to stop short, relieving both of them of their discomfort.

Oliver and Felicity each took a cleansing breath.  They were doing this. Next it was Oliver’s turn to ask about the rules.

“Public touching.” His voice was soft again, dammit. “How well do we know each other?”

Felicity froze. It was a good question. An important question.

“Wow, um, you are the professional here. I respect your experience. Why don’t we use dancing as a guide? Wherever we would touch when we dance seems safe for public consumption during the non-dancing time. How’s that?”

“Agreed.” Oliver nodded, then turned to look up at the staircase. He estimated there were at least 50 steps to climb to the top. No challenge for him, but the woman with the cute, unstable feet was going to be miserable. He turned back to her as she was about to take the first step.

“Wait. Do you mind?” Oliver sounded a bit sheepish, which stopped Felicity from moving any further. “I know I’m probably breaking a rule already.”

With hardly any warning at all, Felicity watched in slow motion as Oliver bundled her into his arms like a weightless bride. He was careful not to manhandle her or the dress as he carried her up four dozen stairs. Her face was barely 8 inches away from his determined glance now and damn, he just kept getting better looking. How was that possible? By the time she processed what was happening, he was lowering her to the ground and they were standing in front of the entry doors. Felicity’s mouth hung open. Luckily, she paid no attention to the couples in the vicinity who smiled at the gallant display.

“I just figured…we better save your feet for that second dance.” He smiled, swallowed thickly and offered her his arm. Stunned and silent, Felicity turned and moved to the entrance.    

//--> //--> //--> //-->

This was turning out to be a surreal evening. Felicity Smoak was kind of kooky, but really smart, very sweet and goddamn stunning. At first Oliver wondered why she needed to hire a date, but as they had talked he recognized that she was unique, exceptional even, and she likely had her own legitimate, albeit off-beat reasons. Nobody understood the lives of other people completely, did they?

Still, part of the likely explanation for hiring a man became more apparent as he watched her check her invitation in with the event host at the lobby desk. Standing five yards away, Oliver observed several men make beelines to her location, each wearing wingtip shoes and a hungry look. They appeared like a pack of lions tracking a wounded wildebeest and they arrived just as she turned around. Her eyes grew large at being suddenly outnumbered and practically pinned against the table.

Before any of the men could say a word to the overwhelmed blonde, there was a hand reaching through the group, clasping hers and tugging her through the mob of wanna-be suitors. Momentum from the pull brought her chest to formidable chest with her escort. Fingers entwined, she watched as he raised her hand to his lips and placed a chaste kiss there. The look in his eye when he did it was less than chaste, but it was not noticed by disappointed spectators. They only heard his voice, clear and deliberate.

“Honey,” his eyes engaged hers directly. “Should we visit the bar before we take in the exhibit?”

Felicity was stunned at first, sincerely worried that her knees might buckle. Luckily, it appeared Oliver was holding her up solely with one hand and animal fucking magnetism. She willed her mouth to move and finally managed to blurt out one word.

“Drink.”

Oliver smiled back at her. “Yes, Ma’am. I was hoping you’d try to ply me with liquor tonight.” Then, he shifted her around to move out of the lobby, making sure the rest of the men saw him claiming Felicity’s arm and wrapping it in his as they walked away.

Once they were out of earshot, Oliver bent down. “So, that happens to you a lot, doesn’t it?”

“Sometimes,” she responded, a little shaky, and then her shoulders dropped.

“You know why, then.” He stated with a heavy breath, not far from her ear.

“Nope.”

Oliver’s eyes swept down to take her in. There was nothing more dangerous than a woman who didn’t know how beautiful she was. With a quiet sigh, he faced forward and they went in search of alcohol.  

//--> //--> //--> //-->

Standing near the open bar, scanning the room full of guests, Felicity was blissfully unaware of the eyes on her. Oliver stole glances while he waited for the bartender to finish pouring their wine. In his work, you had to know how to read people. This Smoak woman was a puzzle and he couldn’t resist wanting to solve it _. Why did she need to hire a man for a night? She was really gorgeous. Funny. Charming. She must meet guys all the time. Not those creepy guys from the lobby. Decent, successful men_. He wanted to know more. He wanted to touch her. Whoa. He was getting ahead of himself now.  

Felicity made a silent observation soon after they left the bar area. Oliver was pretty damn good at this escort thing. He looked for cues from her. He accompanied her as they made a few stops to speak with her acquaintances around the room. When she was speaking animatedly, giving a passionate opinion or providing useful information, Oliver never looked bored. Each time they were drawn into conversation, he was polite and charming and always kept the focus on her. He was a gentleman. But every so often she caught a hint of something in his eyes that suggested there was a wildness in him, something simmering behind the perfect exterior. It was intriguing.

And then the Bowens happened. Carter Bowen and his mother, Angela were Starling City royalty and Felicity despised them both. Carter was a noted plastic surgeon around town, mostly because when he wasn’t operating on people, he insisted on telling everyone about the last surgery he performed. For some reason, Carter got it into his head that all women needed to improve on their looks and that by landing him, they would be guaranteed free upgrades for the rest of their lives, whether they wanted them or not.  

It wasn’t surprising that Carter got his winning personality from his pretentious Mommy, who was referred to as a “dick-lady” in Felicity’s mind. Haughty in demeanor and mean-spirited, Angela was a dick, but there really wasn’t a female corollary of that invective to use, so she created one. That pretty much summed up the Bowens – people so awful you made up new profanities to describe them.  

“Well, if it isn’t Felicity Smoak!” The sound of the woman’s shrill voice always drew an involuntary wince. The young entrepreneur turned to face her adversary, already regretting it. Mrs. Bowen was swathed in pale orange tonight, looking a bit like an angry creamsicle. As the woman approached, her baby boy in tow, Felicity subconsciously shifted to stand in front of Oliver, like a shield. Then, she felt Oliver’s hand wrap around the one she had behind her.  

“Good evening, Angela…Carter.” Felicity nodded to each of them.

“I was just saying to Carter the other day that you two really should spend more time together. You aren’t getting any younger, you know, Felicity. Time to get serious and settle down with a catch.”

The look on Felicity’s face would have terrified anyone who actually saw it, but the Bowens lived in their own world and were oblivious. Oliver felt Felicity’s hand squeeze his tightly, apparently an outlet for pent up rage.

“I’m only 26.” The blonde shook her head, frustrated. “I don’t…”

“You know, Felicity,” Carter’s snide tone filled the air. “That is a beautiful gown.”

“Thank you,” she huffed, trying to accept the compliment graciously. Then Carter just had to speak.

“You should come to my practice some time. We could discuss how I could help you.” His eyes were obviously fixated on her modest cleavage. “Make a few adjustments. Then, you could fill it out much better.”

Carter winked. Angela didn’t react at all – like she heard this kind of moronic talk all the time.

Just as Felicity was poised to react somehow, either with a verbal diatribe or a serious punch in his fucking perfectly engineered nose, she felt something on her neck. Much to her surprise, it was Oliver’s warm lips, softly touching the skin as he leaned in from behind. He nuzzled her jaw with his nose and pulled away to see the look of surprise on her face. Oliver simply smiled and looked up at the Bowens innocently, but with a hint of something else.

“Friends, Felicity?”

Felicity’s mouth fell open as she watched him over her shoulder. He smiled warmly at the pair. Or maybe he was just baring his teeth. The two eyed him with more than a little surprise. He was an unknown quantity in Starling City society and they felt a little violated by his presence.

“Oliver, this is Angela Bowen and her son, Carter.” Her voice sounded a little shaky, whether it was from anger or lust, she wasn’t sure. Felicity then directed her attention back to them. “Carter is a successful surgeon…but he hasn’t come up with a procedure for removing his head from his ass yet.”

Oliver stifled a laugh, managing to downsize it to a grin. He raised his eyebrows and nodded at the two before returning his gaze to the young woman with the sharp tongue and the smooth, delicious neck.

“The music started, Baby, and you promised me dancing.” 

Felicity heard the lovely words coming out of the mouth on the gorgeous face of the pretty man, but didn’t move until he slipped his arm around her and began to lead her away from the awful people. She sighed, nodded and felt her body sync up with his until he stopped walking.

“One sec,” he whispered, then turned on his heel and headed back two paces so that he was standing right next to Carter’s shoulder. His demeanor somehow shifted from passive to threatening. Felicity observed, unsure what might happen next.

“Just to be clear…Carter,” his voice sounded deliberate and kind of growly and his eyes narrowed. The doctor froze in place, like one of those sheep that goes stiff right before it keels over in a faint.

“The lady is perfect. _They’re…_ perfect. And you will never get near them. You _are_ an asshat.” With a final quirk of his eyebrow, Oliver turned away, made eye contact with his “date” and smiled.

That was unexpected. Felicity positively beamed as she watched Oliver adjust his tie and move over to her again. She maintained eye contact and slipped her hand around his generous bicep, encouraging him to lead her in whatever direction he wanted.

“You really sold that,” she murmured, loud enough for Oliver to hear.

He pressed his lips together firmly as they walked. “Felicity, I only agreed not to check out _other_ women tonight.”

She ducked her head and blushed. Tomorrow she would thank Caitlin for lending her that dress.

//--> //--> //--> //-->

There was, indeed, dancing. A subdued jazz combo was playing in the atrium and a handful of couples skimmed across the black and white tile floor to instrumental versions of pop standards. The melodies filling the space, coupled with the beautiful surroundings, created a magical bubble that Felicity surrendered to the moment Oliver placed one hand into hers and slipped the other around her hip.

Growing up in Las Vegas, along with early admission to MIT, left few opportunities for a nerdy young blonde to learn proper couples dancing. At first, she was sure the fear of making a mistake reflected in her eyes, or at least was conveyed in awkward, unpracticed movements with her handsome partner. But staring up at Oliver, she realized that she didn’t feel inadequate about it. The way he maintained eye contact with her, touched her with gentle hands and encouraged her body to keep pace with his, felt natural and her self-consciousness about it drifted away.

If her fear had not been replaced by anxiety, she might have enjoyed the moment a little more. It was one thing to feel herself falling into serious crush territory with a guy she just met, but fighting back the urge to wrap herself around a man she had bought and paid for was a huge problem. Oliver was, quite likely, only being sweet and perfect because it was his job. His livelihood. He kept company with women for money. All the time. Oodles of women. His knight in shining armor bit was a practiced routine. Yes. The man with the shimmering blue eyes and miraculous jaw, currently looking at her like she hung the moon, was on the clock.

“You are a really good dancer,” Felicity stated. “You must get a lot of practice.”

Oliver appeared to think about it for a moment and then he shook his head. “Not as much as you’d think. I mostly learned from my sister. Thea is her name. She’s kind of a perfectionist. Made sure we learned for our grandparent’s anniversary party a few years ago.” A little smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. The woman in his arms studied him, rather surprised he had revealed anything personal, anything real to her. She wondered what he did during the day. Whether or not he had a girlfriend…an understanding girlfriend…who didn’t mind the way he spent his nights.

“You’re a good partner.” His voice interrupted her curious thoughts.

“I’m more of a fast dance kind of girl, really. Bruno Mars. Lady Gaga. You should see me in the shower.” Her feet stopped moving as she cursed herself. “Dancing. I mean, I dance in the shower. It wasn’t a come on. Nobody should see that. It was…” _Sigh_.

For some cruel, inexplicable reason, the floor did not open up and swallow her the way she wanted. Instead, she had to stay there as Oliver smiled sweetly at her dysfunctional mouth and guided their bodies to the rhythm of the music.

When the pace slowed for a second dance, Oliver pulled her closer to him. Felicity let go of his hand and wrapped both arms around his neck. She leaned forward and felt the soft stubble of his cheek against her skin, grateful for the first time that day she had worn those damn heels. Being so close to him was a heady experience, not just because cords of muscle in his neck tensed as he moved his head, or because he smelled like citrus, leather and cedar. Powerful hands were pressed against her back and his physical strength, currently disguised in a civilized evening suit, was quite intoxicating.

//--> //--> //--> //--> 

The biggest surprise of the evening for Felicity was probably when she learned that Oliver really did know something about art history. Once they finished dancing, Felicity suggested that they explore the galleries. One of the benefits of attending an event at this venue was the opportunity to view the exhibits without crowds swarming.

The sculpture room was quietly beautiful, populated with snow white marble busts of Ancient Romans and ghosts of past times. Felicity and Oliver strolled through it silently, not wanting to disturb the peace. They moved through the corridors, past a gallery closed for renovation and ended up in the Italian Renaissance room.

Felicity’s eyes moved slowly over the canvases housed in opulent gold leaf-encrusted frames. The paintings by Botticelli and Verrocchio were large and breathtaking. Graceful, colorful, inspiring. Oliver wandered the room, giving Felicity space to experience the works on her own. When he saw her standing still in front of a 5’ tall canvas, he approached.

 

 

“It’s so beautiful,” she sighed, sensing he had moved to stand nearby.

 “Jupiter and Io. Correggio. It’s illustrates a myth. Do you know the story?” Oliver moved closer.

“Tell me. All I know is that Jupiter is the Roman version of Zeus, right?” Her eyes were fixed on the posture and the facial expression of the naked woman in the painting – open, surrendering.

“Yes. Correggio did a series of paintings about Jupiter and his lovers,” Oliver began. “Jupiter was married to Juno, but he had, shall we say a wandering eye.”

“You mean he couldn’t keep it in his toga,” she giggled naughtily. Oliver chuckled.

“Exactly. He didn’t want to get caught cheating because Juno was dangerous, so he took on various forms to make love to other women, like this nymph, Io.”

“Nymph,” Felicity smiled. “I like that she’s a healthy-looking gal.”

“Yeah, this was painted during the Renaissance and the womanly figure was celebrated. Look at the way the light falls on her soft, creamy skin. Totally erotic.”

Felicity felt her face warming with a blush. Her breathing was getting a little labored too. Oliver’s voice was low, almost a growl and what he was saying was affecting her.

“See the blue sky?” Oliver moved beside her and pointed to the upper right corner. “It’s daytime. And there’s Jupiter. He wants her so badly, he’s taken the form of a dark cloud to be with her.”

Oliver moved closer. “Jupiter desires her so much he’s enveloping her. Some mythological stories about the gods depict lack of consent, but you can see here in this one that he’s caressing her and she’s grasping him, holding him against her waist. Like this.”

She looked down as Oliver slid one arm around her hip. Then he placed her arm around his, caging his against her, similar to the pose in the painting.

Felicity tore her eyes away from their connection and, rather than meet his eyes, looked back up at the image on the wall. “She looks enthralled. I love how you can just see his face like an apparition there beside hers. He wants to kiss her, doesn’t he?”

“Yeah, he does,” Oliver replied softly.

Felicity finally looked back at him and saw a storm in his eyes. Her gaze dropped to his lips, which summoned his tongue to wet them. He was as turned on as she was. Oliver’s hand remained around her waist. He raise the other up to touch her cheek. Then he moved closer and his mouth dropped slowly to find hers. They touched tentatively at first, but then Oliver tilted his head and found the perfect angle so she could experience his lips to the fullest.

The kiss was gentle. Felicity was passive, processing and savoring the moment. Her brain switched off and instinct kicked in. She was being kissed. And Oliver kissed as good as he looked. Felicity reached beneath his jacket and grasped on the straps of his suspenders, urging him closer. Oliver deepened the kiss, easing her lips apart and lightly sucking on her tongue.

They were losing their minds, fast. Making out in public could only go on for so long before they were interrupted by the sound of other people entering the space, talking and laughing. Oliver pulled away, his eyes revealing a desperate need to have more of her. Felicity struggled to return her breathing to normal, but couldn’t take her eyes off him.

“Felicity,” he whispered and closed his eyes for a moment. He looked like he was struggling with something.

She wasn’t the only one. Felicity wanted to kiss him again. And she didn’t want to stop. But knew she really should.

Felicity took Oliver’s hand and smiled tightly. She led the way and the two of them walked out of the gallery and into the hallway. Her eyes barely lifted from the floor, sad. The situation was just too complicated and she would rather put the brakes on it now and have a nice memory – the best of any gala she’d ever been to – than find out later that she had been foolish.

The silent couple headed down the corridor, past the elevators and the armory room. Then, as they passed one of the closed galleries, Oliver tugged on her hand and they slipped past the red velvet stanchion and into a darkened space. There was a tall partition that blocked any view from outside.

It was a long room, littered with building materials and smelled vaguely of fresh cut wood. The walls were bare, primed for the next exhibit. The only sound was air pumping through the vents and their labored breathing.

Oliver’s hand cupped her cheek and his thumb ghosted over her bottom lip. She couldn’t deny the expression on his face, that look of wanting that probably mirrored her own. He also looked a little sad. She felt the same. Felicity covered his hand with her own and leaned into it. For a moment. Then she shook her head and pulled away.

“We can’t do this, Oliver.”

“I know,” he sighed.

They spoke at the same time…

“I hired you just to be my date.”

“I don’t have sex for money.”

“What?!” They both reacted like they had been showered with ice water.

“Of course you don’t, Oliver. I would never think that of you.” She cried out.

“Thank God,” Oliver rubbed his forehead, slightly overwhelmed at the current turn of conversation.

“Seriously. Were you thinking I needed to hire you…a strange man to, to…sex me up?” She sounded a more than a little miffed now. She was using a loud voice.

“No, Felicity. The opposite. I couldn’t figure out why a woman as incredible as you was alone. You are exceptional in every way.” He said it with such rawness, it almost took her breath away. “So, it made no sense to me.”

“I’m new to all this. My friend Caitlin told me these stories about women she knew who hired professional escorts to accompany them to events. To take the edge off and not feel weird about going alone. One of the agencies referred to me was yours.”

Oliver huffed a little and smiled. Felicity was on a roll now.

“You know. This isn’t funny. You should probably be more careful, Oliver. I know we didn’t sleep together, but the kissing…it was amazing…” Felicity trailed off, distracted by the memory.

“It was amazing?”

“Of course it was, but I am sure that was out of bounds and you could get in big trouble with your boss.”

Involuntarily, Oliver crossed his arms in front of him, worried that her loud voice might rear its head again in a moment.

“Don’t be mad.” He deployed a facial expression that communicated both contrition and worry.

“Tell me. What else could possibly require that level of face you’re giving me?” Felicity now crossed her arms as well.

“It’s just…I’m not the guy you hired.”

“What?!” Full on loud voice now. She was terrifying.

“Technically, it’s not my fault. I just walked into the diner and there you were looking beautiful and you approached me. When you assumed I was the man you were looking for and alluded to the whole escort thing, I just…had to ... I didn’t want you to be with some strange guy.”

“You’re a strange guy, Oliver! If that’s even your name. You haven’t even been vetted. You could be a crazed serial killer.” Felicity was throbbing with stress now, causing her to pace the parquet floor.

“Felicity. I’m not a crazed serial killer. I’m wearing a tuxedo.” Oliver tried to reason with without making her angrier.

“That makes no sense. But it does seem unlikely. Still, you could be an international art thief who just used me to get into this party. That’s how you know about paintings.” Felicity’s brain was spinning now.

“I guess I could be, or maybe the more reasonable explanation is that I was supposed to come to this gala with my sister, Thea, who works in Special Collections because her boyfriend, Roy, is out of town.”

Oliver’s tone was anxious now. He needed to explain, to make her understand.

“I got dressed up, I waited for Thea at the diner, but she called and told me that her friend Iris went into labor and she had to go be her birthing buddy, whatever that is. I was going to leave, but I stopped in the Men’s Room first and when I came out, there was a beautiful woman standing there and she said hello to me.” At that point, Oliver raised his hands in mock surrender.

“I suppose that sounds…plausible,” she muttered.   

“And I realized you were there to meet somebody else.”

“That’s right. You thought I hired a prostitute.” Felicity poked him in the chest and huffed over to sit on an empty bench. “All I wanted was arm candy. But no…”

Oliver followed, dropping to kneel down beside her.

“Please, please, Felicity, I’m an idiot.” Oliver looked desperate. Contrite. “I’m just not really familiar with the concept of professional escort services for dating. My brain went to a bad place and I made a conclusion I shouldn’t have.”

Oliver leaned closer to her and gently touched the delicate green and gold embroidery on the skirt of her dress with his index finger. It was something to focus on other than face her ire.

“You sure did,” she countered, grimacing at him.

“In my own defense…it’s second nature.” His voice was quiet. Oliver looked up at her, ensnaring her with those irresistible blue eyes again.

“I’m a police detective. Oliver Queen, SCPD.”   

The words rung in Felicity’s ears for a second before she leapt up with a roar, sending Oliver tumbling on his back.

“You’re a what?!”

“Not vice or anything like that. Homicide.” He wasn’t sure if he should try to stand up or remain in a submissive position. She was pretty mad.

“Oh good,” she wandered away. “So you wouldn’t arrest me for solicitation after sex.”

“Oh nooo,” he replied, “but if you kill me right now, my colleagues will bring you to justice,’ he stated drolly.

“Ha Ha. Very funny. You know, you shouldn’t mess with me. I can do things online that would…”

Oliver raised an eyebrow. Her eyes popped a little, realizing what she was saying. She muted herself and turned away.

Detective Queen rose to his feet and approached her. He touched her arm lightly, with tentative strokes and leaned over her shoulder.

“Felicity, I am truly sorry for deceiving you tonight. For misjudging the situation. For insulting you in any way. You are sexy and gutsy and funny and intelligent and deserving of respect. Up until ten minutes ago this was the best date I’ve ever had.” 

The room was quiet again. Just the sound of the air conditioning and anxious breaths.

“Five minutes,” she stated in a quiet voice. Oliver was confused until she turned to look at him. Her beautiful face catching the muted light in the room stopped his heart.

“Hmm?” was all he could manage as she moved toward him.

“Five minutes ago we were kissing. I think we would both agree that was best date ever territory.” She tugged on her bottom lip with her teeth, completely mesmerizing him.

“Yes, it was.” He choked out.

“It was a good apology, Oliver.” She studied the front of his suit and smoothed down his lapels as he looked on in wonder.

“Yeah?”

“Mmm hmm,” she smiled a little, signaling a shift. “But I still need convincing.”

Felicity flashed him a heated look. She and her escort who wasn’t crashed into each other. Her hands sought the bulk of his shoulders, while his skimmed along the curves beneath the soft fabric of her gown. The kissing recommenced in earnest and it was incendiary. Felicity felt warm inside and out as they explored, massaged and cherished each other’s mouths.

She felt swoony. It was a good feeling. Floaty and heavy at the same time. She hadn’t been kissed in kind of a long time, but even then, she didn’t remember it affecting her this much. She was literally melting from the inside and all she wanted was to surround him like smoke.

As good as Oliver Queen’s lips were, and they were excellent, his hands were out of this world. Every touch set her on fire. Even when they broke the kiss to breathe, he never stopped touching her, stroking the curve of her back, pressing her softness against his solid frame. He worshiped her neck and collarbone with his teeth and his tongue.

When the couple finally emerged from their gallery, the gala had ended and the last guests were heading to the exit. Felicity ducked her head as they passed, tucking stray locks behind her ear and hoping her hair didn’t look as mussed as it deserved. She knew her lips were swollen and most of her lipstick had been transferred to the man who held her hand.

The cool late summer air hit them outside. It was sobering and invigorating as well. Enough so that Oliver lifted Felicity once more and carried her down after uttering the simple word, “Shoes.” He kissed her on the cheek after he set her on the pavement.

As they stood and waited for the town car Felicity had summoned on her phone, they both looked across the street to the diner, its interior illuminated. They both smiled and likely thought about the man who showed up a few minutes late, but got paid anyway. Hopefully he got some pie and a cup of coffee.

//--> //--> //--> //-->

Sunday morning. Felicity Smoak opened her eyes to golden light in her bedroom. The first thing he noticed was her gown, hanging carefully atop her closet door. Below it, the hardwood floor was littered with shoes, socks, hairpins and shirt studs. Black pants. And suspenders. Oh God, those gorgeous suspenders. She giggled a little, remembering how she’d nearly attacked Oliver when his jacket came off in the living room. Best date ever.

Oliver found her sitting up in bed when he padded in dressed only in boxer briefs, carrying two cups of coffee. Felicity whistled, which drew an inexplicable blush across his cheeks. He was even more breathtaking out of the suit. She honestly didn’t know where to focus her attention in the light of day. Chest. Arms. So many tantalizing places. 

“Careful,” she pleaded, “there are sharp things on the floor.”

He smiled and put the cups down on the bedside table before sitting down on the edge of the bed. Oliver leaned in and kissed until her smile got in the way.

“I’m a cop. I’m used to danger,” he said in a growly voice. It made her tingly.

“About that, Mister,” she grinned. “What about Art History? Pretty convincing. You didn’t really get all that from TV did you?”

“No,” he huffed, crawling over her to settle on the other side of the bed, sliding under the sheets beside her. “My sister. I used to help her study for exams sometimes.”

Felicity shifted over to be close to him again. Rediscovering his simmering flesh was going to make for a delightful morning, afternoon and then some. She entwined her legs with his and draped herself over his shoulder so she was close enough to kiss his jaw.

“So tell me then, what happened to Io after she and Jupiter made crazy cloud love.” Her giggle was infectious, as was her touch. Just feeling her body rubbing against him was prepping Oliver for another round, which he expected would be extra hot in daylight.

“Well,” he said, kissing her nose. “Didn’t go so well, actually for Io.”

“Really?” she sounded disappointed, but it didn’t stop her from running her fingers along his pecs.

“Yeah. Jupiter was worried about what would happen to Io if his wife found out about them.”

“Understandable.”

“So Jupiter turned Io into a cow.” Oliver pressed his lips together, stifling a chuckle.

“He didn’t!”

“Yep, a beautiful white heifer. He still loved her though.” Oliver sunk his fingers into her golden hair, grateful it was free.

“He better have,” she stated, matter-of-factly.

A moment later, Oliver rolled on top of her and they drifted on a wave of intimate touches and fevered panting. As Felicity was surrounded by him, all thoughts of myths and disguises and erotic paintings were supplanted by something real and wonderful.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading and for leaving a comment if you are so inclined. I really appreciate it so much!


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